


Come Away to the Garden

by keir



Series: Kinktober 2018 [19]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Branding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Scarification, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keir/pseuds/keir
Summary: Lance has always admired and loved Lotor, the boss's son. When Lotor brings the house down, destroys his family until it all lays in ash, he disappears, and Lance lets him go though he never stops thinking of him.Years later, Lance finds him and he has a special request, something only Lotor can fulfill.





	Come Away to the Garden

Lance let himself into the shop as if he owned the place, breezing in and unbundling himself. He threw his scarf haphazardly on a waiting room chair and his coat across the reception counter. He shucked off his shoes as he walked along, followed by his pants and boxers. He paused in the doorway at the very back, the room with the only light on, and stopped.

The other man hadn't noticed him yet, or maybe he was just pretending he hadn't; the latter was more likely since Lance wasn't exactly quiet. He was leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, and he was using it to prop up a sketchbook. His pencil moved lazily, probably not drawing anything in particular. His face was neutral, showing no emotion; a hand went up to tuck a stray lock of white hair back behind his ear and out of his way.

Lotor was gorgeous; he always had been. Lance remembered his first time meeting him in the gardens of Lotor's father's mansion, the way his five year old self had believed the other boy was some sort of forest nymph amongst the flowers. Lotor was the perfect mix of feminine and masculine, and he had always drawn Lance to him.

It was no different now than it was then. "Knock knock," he said.

Lotor didn't look up, pencil still moving slowly and without purpose. "I didn't think you were coming," he said, voice smooth and melodic.

"And miss a session? O ye of little faith."

This was going to be session number fifty one. It was the week before Christmas and Lance hadn't missed a single appointment; like clockwork he had come to Lotor's studio every week for nearly a year. He was on a mission, and he intended to complete it.

It had been a long journey, and it had almost never begun. He had shown up on the doorstep to Lotor's shop nearly a year ago and the door had slammed in his face. He didn't blame the other man; they hadn't seen each other in almost a decade, and with the way things had all fallen apart around them, Lance wasn't surprised that the sight of him might have conjured up painful memories. Still, he had hung around, pestering Lotor the moment he set foot outside. Probably the only reason he had even heard Lance out was because some of the artists at his shop had cajoled him into it.

Lotor had turned him down at first, called him crazy and stupid and foolish. Lance had, of course, wheedled and pleaded the way only he could, utilizing his puppy dog eyes. Finally Lotor had looked at him, his face fierce and eyes blazing as he asked Lance one word.

Why?

Lance had said with all certainty and honesty that if he couldn't have Lotor do it then he would never get it done. Only Lotor could give him what he wanted. Piercing eyes had stared at him, bored into his very soul before the other man finally gave in.

Those eyes finally looked up at Lance now. They were breathtaking; a blue caught somewhere between medium and pale, ranging toward violet depending on the light. They fixed on Lance's figure. "Really?" he asked, a perfect brow arching.

Lance looked down at himself in only his sweater and shrugged. "Might as well get it out of the way now," he said. He felt his logic was sound as he stripped the last bit of clothing off and let it fall to the floor.

Lotor eyed the offending item with distaste, but said nothing. Instead, he rolled away from the work table and set his sketching aside, then began to prepare his tools.

The undertaking had been massive. Not only was it a lot of work, but Lance needed time between each session to heal, or at least enough to satisfy Lotor to allow him to continue. His entire body was covered now, barring his face and pelvis, from his throat down to his toes. The dark blue lines flexed and bent, wiggled and waved as he moved. Lotor had called him crazy, but it was his own hand that had wrought such beauty; each line carved into Lance's flesh and set with dye was a testament to his skill.

There was no one better in the business of scarification than Lotor, but Lance had his other reasons for choosing him as the artist to enact his vision. Lotor hadn't even been practicing, but Lance had dragged him out of retirement, so to speak, though as far as he knew Lotor never did this to anyone else.

Lance approached the table and seated himself without invitation as he had the fifty other sessions. He watched as Lotor fitted the micro laser with the tip he wanted and laid it on the sterile tray. Dexterous, long fingers mixed the custom dark blue ink, known by heart now. Lotor was precise, as he always was.

Growing up under the black influence of Zarkon was hard, Lance knew. The man had terrified him when he had still been alive and Lance had worked for him. Yet he was on the fringes, a mere underling; Lotor was Zarkon's son, his protege and heir, and there was no escaping his dark shadow.

Lance stared at the space between Lotor's pointer and thumb. Once there had been the symbol of the Galra crime empire branded there, but Lotor had destroyed it long ago. Now it was a mottled lump of scarred flesh, the pain buried beneath the scar tissue.

"Are you ready?" Lotor asked.

Lance looked up into the other man's eyes, knowing he was caught staring. "I'm always ready for your magic hands."

Lotor didn't rise to the bait, and Lance lay down on his back. The padding was cool beneath his skin and he stared up at the dark ceiling, feeling a sense of serenity come over him, the calm before the storm. Lotor had his demons, and so did Lance. Years of abuse and trauma, memories of the terrible things he had done in the Galra name. It all washed over him, tugging at him like the tide, trying to drag him out to sea and drown him.

They had started with the gardens, Lance's first memory at the beginning of his journey, when he had been introduced to the family. The trees and flowers twined up his ankles, and blossoms bloomed across his feet. Stretching upward from there was the memory of the schooling he had learned, books and notes, adages and scripture and quotes, all scrawled across his calves and halfway up his thighs. Above that were his guns, all types and calibers, his true education. Each had a name, a meaning to him; his trusty companions. Each had helped him to kill.

You earned your keep in the family.

His arms were scarred with the memories of the lives he took. No names, only symbols to remember them by; a pair of glasses or a fancy car or a pocket watch. They were emblazoned on him from shoulders to wrists. His throat was covered in thorny brambles, choking him into silence. His back had taken the longest; it was of the day of The Betrayal. Though it centered around Lotor intimately, the other man never balked at creating it. In it, the mansion they both knew so well was ablaze, a destructive inferno raging to devour it. The family words were inscribed below it in stone which was crumbling, turning to dust. He wanted to commemorate the day Zarkon had fallen by his own son's hands, the day he was finally free. Giant wings spanned his shoulders and down his sides. Lotor had given them to him, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.

Lance's chest was filled with a giant roaring lion, its face a snarl of victory. The great chains which were holding it were broken, snapped clean, the links flying out untethered. He had found renewal and hope in those years since his freedom was given.

And now they were working on the final piece: ocean waves across his pelvis, dolphins frolicking amongst them. There was no place as calming and welcoming as the ocean to Lance.

He watched as Lotor tied his hair up in a messy bun and pulled on his latex gloves before taking up his machine. Pale eyes looked up to Lance. "Ready?"

"Yes," Lance said calmly as he lay back and stared at the ceiling.

It was hard to describe the feeling of having his skin cut open with the laser. It was painful, of course, but there was also something euphoric about it. His head tilted back as he exhaled, the breath shuddering out on the end. The pain built, rather like walking up a spiral staircase, winding tighter and tighter until Lotor paused and Lance felt like he could breathe again. He let himself shake or pant in those moments as the other man applied the ink, rubbing it into the fresh wounds. Then they began again, Lance holding in the pain, laying still until he could release it. After a time he became lulled by it, feeling as if he were being rolled under by the very waves that were being carved into his flesh.

"Hey, keep that thing out of the way," Lotor growled.

"Sorry," Lance mumbled, body feeling heavy. He reached down and grasped his hard cock, pulling it to point at the other side of his pelvis. He always got like that during a session, like some weird survival instinct. Fuck or flight, maybe. It never seemed to bother Lotor much, but then he hadn't been this close to Lance's erection since they had done his upper thighs over half a year ago. Lance held his cock and stared at the ceiling, memories floating by like haunts being exorcised from his flesh.

Lotor was the first one to touch him, when they were younger. The first one to get him off, his hand burrowed in Lance's pants, fisting his cock until he came in a wet mess. He had tried to kiss the other man and been refused. He always felt a pain at that memory. They had been about to take a man's life and all he could think about was why Lotor had refused to kiss him.

It wasn't often that they got to work together; more often than not Lance would have to admire from afar. He was a nobody, an underling, and Lotor might as well have been a Prince locked behind golden bars. Lotor barely even seemed to notice him or to care, his eyes cold and posture stiff.

Lance gasped as another pass of the laser was completed. His fingertips trembled as Lotor pressed the ink in. "Just a few more passes," the other man said softly.

It was unusual for Lotor to speak at all during a session. Lance wondered why he did now as he held his breath, letting another wave of pain crush him. His eyes rolled back, fingertips scrabbling against the table as he held his body still.

Suddenly a hand covered his own, though the laser kept moving. Lance stilled beneath it.

Three more passes and the session was done. Lance hadn't realized he was crying as he drew in ragged breaths; his limbs shook with tiny tremors as he came down from his high. Lotor watched him, making sure he was okay, and when he quieted, the other man set about cleaning up.

Lance lay there, silent as he listened to the soft sounds which seemed so far away. He turned his head to watch as Lotor stripped off his gloves then pulled off his hair tie, letting the snowy cascade of his hair free. The other man finally looked at him. "Next session is the last," Lotor said.

"Yeah," Lance said. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. The last time.

\---

It was the day before Christmas and Lance was staring at the familiar ceiling, his legs and arms trembling with the pain. His pain came rolling out in a groan during the next pause.

"We can stop, you know. I can finish it next week."

"No!" Lance gasped. It had to happen, and it had to happen now. He was so close, so very close, and his nerve might run put if it didn't happen now.

Lotor said nothing else, bending mercilessly to the task. Tears trailed from the corners of his eyes as he stared at the ceiling, the memories coming back. Lotor with the inferno blazing behind him, the destruction he had wrought. The gardens Lance so loved were ablaze, turning his memories to cinder and ash. He had reached out to the other man, his hero and his leader and his secret love. He pledged himself to the man right there, his body and his heart.

Lotor had walked away. Lance had let him go, had let the rejection swallow him and eat him up. It was painful, as painful as the laser burning into his flesh, but Lance had eventually risen from the ashes. He had discovered himself the way he had never been allowed to, had grown and transformed and breathed freely for the first time.

And when he was at peace, he sought his golden Prince out.

He had never doubted he would go to him again. He was drawn like a moth to flame, willing to burn and die if only to be close for a moment. He sobbed out breaths, feet shaking against the table as they reached another break. There wasn't much pause as Lotor drove him hard. Lance was fighting not the shake, limbs convulsing as he screamed at the end.

He was hard, so hard and so very alive. Lotor was snapping off his gloves and was about to let his hair down when Lance told him to stop. His Prince looked at him with that cold fire in his beautiful eyes, angry at the challenge to his authority. "We're not done," Lance insisted.

Lotor said nothing as he stood, and Lance lunged for his hand, holding tight even as his hip screamed in pain. Lotor stared down at him imperiously, daring him to make a false move. Lance licked his lips. "It needs your signature."

Lotor stared down at him, and Lance said, "I'm your masterpiece, aren't I? And every artist should sign their work." There was a heartbeat of hesitation, and then Lotor was reaching for the micro laser. "No. Not that." The other man looked back at him, eyes widening just a bit as he understood.

Lance's thumb caressed over the mangled flesh between Lotor's thumb and pointer. The brand of the Galra family was gone, but the memories were still there. Lance wanted to take them into himself, to ease the pain. To set Lotor free and end the cycle.

"No," Lotor said, voice clipped.

"I want this," Lance insisted. He felt the hand in his own tremble.

"No!" Lotor snarled, ripping his hand away. His momentum made him hit the tray, upending ink and his machine.

"Give this to me and I'll go away if you want me to. Just let me have this small piece of you." Lance let put a shuddering breath. "Please, Lotor. Please, my Prince," he murmured.

Lotor roared, upending a small table, its contents flying. He slammed his fist into the wall, panting in his rage. Lance watched him silently. "Just one more thing," Lotor ground out.

"Yes," Lance agreed.

"Where at?"

"Wherever you want it."

Lotor said nothing else as he gathered what he would need. Lance lay back and watched him, feeling a calm lassitude come over him. He had never earned it while he had been with the family, but he had always longed to be marked by Lotor's personal brand. He didn't know if Lotor still owned it, but he was glad he did.

The iron was of a twining of rose thorns spelling out a flourished L; Lance's heart skipped a beat at the sight. He had watched Lotor strike it into the skin of other men more than a few times in his life, wishing it was for him, and now it was about to be a reality. The mechanism began to heat until the brand went from black to bright golden orange. The heat cast from it drew Lance in.

Lotor stared at him, his face hard lines of determination. Lance wanted to worship at his feet. He was surprised as the other man climbed up onto the table, straddling his hips. Lance stared up at his Prince, lips parted and cock still eager. "Your shoulder," Lotor said with certainty. He took position, and Lance felt the blazing heat radiating over him.

"I built a garden," Lance said softly. Lotor's eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. "I tried to make it just the same. It took me years; turns out I'm not a very good gardener." Lance held his palms up as if begging. "I want to show it to you."

Lotor let loose a cry as he struck, swift and true. Lance was sure he screamed, but he didn't know; he felt as if he was flung from his body into space and time, floating there for a moment or an eternity, before he was slammed back down into a body searing with pain. Lotor was still above him, chest heaving and face wild; his eyes rolled like a horse gone mad. Lance reached out to him and the spell was broken.

Lotor clambered down clumsily, so unlike his graceful self, and he slammed the brand into the sink. It hissed as the cold water hit it.

Lance sat up, marveling at his new forever mark; he had to resist the urge to touch it. He went to Lotor, who shoved him away, snarling for him to get out.

But he wouldn't leave his Prince, not this time. He knelt at his feet, taking his hands which had so artfully scarred him, and kissed them. Lotor shuddered, clearly overwhelmed. Lance rose, taking the other man's face in his hands. Lotor stared at him, fierce and angry and vulnerable.

He let Lance kiss him this time, nearly twenty years since he had spurned him. It was chaste and gentle before Lance grew too greedy. His tongue delved inside, tasting Lotor's sweetness as his fingers buried into white hair. It wasn't long before Lotor was fighting back, shoving his way into Lance's mouth, dominating and taking, teeth scraping soft flesh. Lance caved to him, let him have whatever he wanted.

Suddenly Lotor jerked back, pushing away, but Lance wouldn't let it end. He grabbed the other man, dragged him to the table. Lotor growled at him, but Lance managed to maneuver him onto the table. He straddled the other man as Lotor had done to him not too long ago, overwhelmed as pale eyes stared up at him, judging him as they always had, and he so wanted to be deemed worthy.

He worked the other man's cock from his pants, stroking him into hardness. He pressed it between his cheeks and sank down onto it, his hole lubed before in hopes that this would happen. He rode up and down, his body throbbing in pain, shaking with it and the pleasure. Lotor's hands went to his thighs, caressing over the scarred flesh. Lance leaned forward and kissed his Prince again, lips and tongues rubbing and tangling. Lotor's hips canted, and he began pushing into Lance.

Lance let out a shuddering breath as he buried his face against his lover's neck. Strong hands gripped his ass, pushing him down as Lotor thrust up. Lance moaned, hot and wet, into the other man's skin.

After a moment, Lotor pushed them to sit up. Lance groaned as he sank deeper, legs splayed wide. "My masterpiece," Lotor murmured. Lance shuddered as a hot tongue trailed over his neck and shoulder. He was bounced up and down on Lotor's pelvis, touched deep inside. His eyes rolled back as pain and pleasure intertwined, overloading his senses. Lotor's teeth scraped over his Adam's apple and he whimpered. "Stay with me."

Lotor didn't answer, only tightened his grip and thrust harder. The table shook beneath them as Lance took Lotor into him, desperate to prove himself.

All it took for him to come was the hand that touched him. He sobbed in relief, releasing himself and his pain in crashing waves; his back arched on top of his lover, grinding down. Lotor groaned, hips hitching as he came deep inside.

Lance panted, fingers trembling against Lotor's shoulders as he stared into pale eyes. "Come home with me," he begged, voice raspy. "Come see the garden."

Lotor's only answer was a bruising kiss, and Lance held onto beautiful white hair, vowing to never let go again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me as keirdark on tumblr


End file.
